A Martyr Tonight
by Queen Mandala Jay
Summary: Death is often perceived as the end. However, some endings are not as bitter as they might appear at first glance. Only the perseverance of time and the sheer will to survive allows for those lessons to be learned. Leo/OC, Don/OC
1. Chapter 1

A Martyr Tonight  
><span>Chapter 1<span>

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><p>Demetri Abe.<p>

It wasn't often that Foot Clan soldiers were mourned. Their bodies usually disappeared, if they weren't burned they were shipped off to group burials. After all, Oroku Saki had little concern for how many peons he lost in whatever endeavor he'd taken that cost the lives of his lackeys.

Many of them were born into the Clan, Demetri had been. Others were recruited as children - orphans usually - and promised a future. Promised with lies which led to servitude that bound them to a 'father' figure who they offered their loyalty. Unto their death.

It wasn't loyalty that had taken Demetri, at least not loyalty to the Clan. It was the wish to abandon the Clan which had cost his life.

No one else stood in the small back room of the funeral home, she was alone. She was the reason he'd been killed. That much she was sure of. There were none of his Clan mates present, no one to pay their respects - only her. She had asked him to leave, begged him to abandon that life. The things he saw, the life he led...it was too much. There were monsters and aliens and all sorts of things that people weren't supposed see in normal lives.

She'd found him, his body, with two other Clan members, moving him - no doubt to dispose of him. That night, it was supposed to be the one he handed over the black suit and single katana he'd been issued.

"Mutants."

It was the only word one of the two issued to her. She knew what that meant. She'd been told about them, those...turtles. Demetri mentioned them sometimes. It was when they'd continued to try and drag his body off that she went ballistic. Screaming and crying, threats of murder if they moved his body an inch further and much more. She'd hit her breaking point and the future Mrs. Demetri Abe, Daphne Denning, experienced the emotion of loss.

She'd cried over his fallen body for hours before having him moved to be laid to rest appropriately. It was frowned upon for them to date, to marry, and so on, but some made that choice. When Clan members did, they were expected to continue in their service of the Foot and not question their loyalty. She knew she divided his attention and she assumed that had been his undoing.

Whatever the case may be, she didn't question why two others had survived when he hadn't. She didn't ask about the mutants. She didn't bother with the details. She didn't even consider it the feat that it was to procure his body from his fellow brethren.

Demetri's father, a Japanese born man who'd come from a long line of Foot Soldiers, had died when he was a child. His mother, the American woman, who'd loved him when he relocated to the American headquarters on his master's wish, dismissed him when he took on the full uniform of his lineage. It was, at the time, Demetri's way of honoring his father's memory.

Daphne wondered, as she'd been told the story before, if he would be considered an honor now. She leaned into the coffin and placed a flower on the dead body of her former fiancé; now just a cold and empty husk. She leaned back and never would hear the order given by one of Shredder's elite guard.

"Kill her...too."

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><p>AN: Yes, this is a shameless romance. Or will be. There will be other things as well - action and adventure, the whole nine yards. Thank you for reading. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Title from a Billy Joel song, I do not own it or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (who, for purposes of this story, will not be teenagers). _((**Queen Jay**))_


	2. Chapter 2

A Martyr Tonight  
><span>Chapter 2<span>

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><p>The Foot ninja that were present would have heeded their leader's wishes, as Shredder's elite ninja were in command if the Shredder himself wasn't. However, just as they were about to move into action, the funeral home director, an old man with the most obvious toupee, moseyed into room with Daphne. He could have passed for a used car salesman and may have doubled as one on the weekends; but he offered her a payment plan for the funeral she had scrapped together.<p>

"Miss Denning. Home's closing up, Miss Denning," the man said placing an arm around her shoulder and turning her to guide her out of the room.

"But it's only 9:30. I thought it lasted until 10." Daphne was somewhat baffled, though she didn't fight him leading her. He even snatched up her bag and shoved it into her hand, while waving off her comment.

"Yes, yes, well the hours are open to interpretation." He said in his oily voice as he ushered her out and conspicuously pushed the plastic sign, which had the official 'hours of operation' listed, out of the window.

"Hey...wait," she mumbled as the door was abruptly shut in her face. She stared at the peeling wood for a moment and the overhanging door light flicked off. She glanced up at the now dead bulb and then her eyes flicked to the bits of falling snow just beyond the lamp that hadn't been updated, it appeared, since the turn of the century. The lights inside, visible from a narrow set of windows that ran the length of the door, died too.

Her mother had warned her about the city. She had been told it was a dangerous place. She shouldn't go. Daphne hadn't just dismissed the negative sentiments, she had laughed at them-with zeal. She wanted the city, she wanted the lights, the busyness of it all. She had wanted the anonymity and the energy. When she stepped off into the crowd of Manhattan's lower West side, invisible among the others, she wondered what her mother would say now.

_I told you so._

She pulled her coat tighter around her, bits of snow catching in her hair. She didn't hate the snow, she didn't even hate the city, she hated what she'd let it make her become. She couldn't even say she loved Demetri - not anymore at least. There was a time that she would admit to being a doe-eyed girl with rosy cheeks, and a dreamy look in her eyes, singing that love was the answer to every problem. Today, as she walked away from the dead body of the man she would claim that she had loved at one point, and now had obligation to see through, she would say that true love was a much a farce as fairy tales.

At least she could put that part of her life behind her; the dangers of the Foot Clan. The life sucking and fight instigating, soul crushing, relationship destroying group of people that could murder idealism - and had for her - was gone. She would be free of it and now she could start over, this time, hopefully, find a nice banker or lawyer to settle down with, pop out a couple of kids, and live the most empty and boring mundane dream life ever. It also wasn't the life she'd dreamed of when she was a five year old knight, saving the prince. She couldn't say she was ever one for convention. But it Mrs. No-Name-Accountant seemed far better than Mrs. Doomed-for-Failure-Foot-Spouse.

Trapped in her own thoughts, she never knew she was being tailed; not that she would have, if she had not been chasing her own mind in the crowd. She wasn't a ninja and though she had dated one for years, she would never understand their ways. Her emotion, when she'd seen his dead body, had been a knee jerk reaction. She was sad to lose him, but she wasn't sure she could say she missed him. Not now.

She'd had a plan. Get to her apartment, dump the important stuff in a backpack and catch the first Greyhound home to Fort Lauderdale. She wouldn't miss the snow, even if she didn't hate it.

She chirped a shriek when the first black clad Foot soldier pounced in front of her as she'd entered the empty lobby of her apartment building. She'd been so caught up in her own thoughts, going through the motions, that it never occurred to her that she might be attacked. She stumbled back, dropping her bag. All the contents spilled out - including the pepper spray she'd insisted would keep her safe to anyone who would ask.

She stumbled back into a group of them, ready for her.

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut and tucked her head down on her shoulders. There was no defending herself from them, she knew that. She also knew that they weren't there to pay their respects; somehow, in the pit of her gut, she knew they were going to kill her.

It was, however, as she stood with her eyes squeezed shut and her chin pressed against her chest that the anticipation inched on and nothing happened. One eye opened, and then the other. There was a fight which had broken out as soon as she opened her eyes.

She took a few more steps backward.

"Whoa there," she heard a chipper voice and felt a pair of hands under her arms stop her. She tensed and whipped around. Her eyes bugged momentarily and she felt her jaw go slack. She'd heard of them, but she'd never seen them. They were theory, until that moment. He was, or she assumed the turtle man was a he, wearing an orange mask around his face.

She nodded, there eyes unblinking and she swallowed hard - as if a child seeing Santa Claus in their house, or the boogey man. Her mouth closed and she didn't move but her eyes stayed on him, still unblinking.

"Come on lady! MOVE IT!" One with a red mask hissed at her, giving her a small prod out of the way which was just in time as another turtle was pushing a pair of the Foot ninjas back with expert skill of his double katana.

It was all moving much too fast for her to process what was happening. That was why she pressed herself against the mailboxes. She couldn't tell who was winning simply because she didn't know what was happening and her fright had consumed her over her desire to figure out the play-by-play unfolding. It was only after the final Foot ninja was pitched from the window that she realized who had come out on top.

Her eyes swept over the four of them. "Th...thanks," she managed uttering, still in her shock. The connection had not been processed yet.

"Don't be stupid," the one in red snapped at her. "They were trailing you for six blocks. Learn to pay attention." he barked, pushing her fallen bag - which he'd scooped up - in her hand.

"Okay." Daphne said lamely, clumsily catching the object. She had to duck her free hand under, awkwardly catching it from how it had been thrust onto her, some of the stuff fell back out.

"You're not screaming," the orange clad one said, handing her some of the fallen goods. She blushed when a pink flower pattern wrapped tampon passed into her hand. He might be a turtle but he was still a person, a stranger, that was enough to make her face glow momentarily with embarrassment. She didn't seem to notice that he didn't pay attention to what it was. "That's cool. Don't mind him, he's always full of sunshine and roses. Puppies sometimes too." He grinned at her. She was pretty sure it qualified as a grin at least.

The red one growled and puffed up pointedly at the one in orange.

"Mikey..." the one in blue warned, which cut off the laugh the orange turtle had been huffing out playfully. "Are you hurt?" his attention turned back to her.

"Hurt?" Daphne blinked. The precariously placed bag spilled a few more objects inconveniently and she let her arms wobble under the bag while she tried to steady it. "No...um, not physically at least." she tried to smile and joke through her nerves at being faced with what she'd always been told - trained to believe - were villainous monsters. "I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming."

"Do you often dream and walk? Sleep and walk?" The fourth finally spoke, his voice was softer - curious, honest when he asked her.

"Um...no, I was...that was more facetious. Not, literal. You...saved me didn't you? They were going to kill me...weren't they?"

"NO! They were gonna throw you a party. Whadda'you think?" The gruff one snapped again, the same bark on his tone.

Daphne recoiled slightly and pulled her purse closer to her chest.

"Raph..." the blue one warned, with a new name this time.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I'm just a little shaken. I've never been jumped before."

"Maybe we could make sure you get into your apartment safely, I'm Don. We're not going to hurt you. But standing around in the open, it's probably not the best idea. We just want to be sure you get home safe."

"Oh, yeah...um. It's just up the stairs here," she looked over them. "Thanks. I...yeah. Just thanks."  
>Shock was what kept her from screaming or panicking. Instead she was more afraid of the one in red, Raph she'd determined, shouting at her. He was clearly disgruntled. "You...could come in. I don't have much to offer but coffee and I think...some cookies." Daphne offered lamely. The truth was she was acting on instinct rather than knowledge of protocol. She didn't have room or time to be frightened of them, and she was reminded that she was aware that they existed.<p>

Mikey followed behind her, collecting the objects that fell out of her purse because she was still holding it awkwardly from how Raph had forced it into her arms. "Is this gum? Can I have a piece?" He asked randomly from his crouched position behind them. His question was followed up with a smack and a swift 'owwww'.

"No, thank you for the offer. As Don said, we just want to be sure you get home safe. I'm Leo. Raph is there to your left and back there is Mikey."

"Me." Mikey grinned, reiterating on his brother's behalf. "I'd like a cookie, since you know - we don't get medals for our good deeds."

"Can it Mikey." Raph snapped.

Daphne ducked her head down when Raph snapped and leaned away from him a little. "Daphne. My name is Daphne. I...thank you again. It's...this one. This one is mine." She stopped at the plain door, only marked as different from any of the other in the hall by the 204B brass numbers attached to it. She turned around to thank them again, never really considering if it was bad that they knew the location of her apartment, but when she opened her mouth she found they were gone. She drew her head back and then shook it lightly.

Stress. Stress could explain hallucinations.

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><p>AN: I would appreciate hearing anything you have to say. I appreciate feedback. Thank you!


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